


A Forgotten Encounter

by Tarshil



Category: Death Note
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Child Murder, Crime Scenes, Crimes & Criminals, Friendship, Murder, Teen L, child Light, crime investigation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 15:32:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10415280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarshil/pseuds/Tarshil
Summary: Light is faced with his first murder case at age nine after meeting a strange, hooded teenager in Harajuku. Dupin becomes the one special thing in his childhood, long forgotten. This is L and Light's true first meeting, but they will never know it.





	1. Dupin

**Author's Note:**

> There is a one-shot sequel to this, The Ones We Take. It's a retelling of the last scene in Death Note. You can access it via my profile page. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters and affiliated material belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. No profit is made off this.

A boy no older than nine willed his short, tired legs to keep running down the pedestrian cross and onto the sidewalk. In his exhaustion, his feet slapped heavily on the pale concrete and he had to struggle through the towering crowd. Light needed a place to hide soon. If those boys caught him, they would beat the hell out of him. They were especially angry with him since he had beaten up one of their numbers back in school. But that coward, Yujirou, after running off with his tail between his legs had returned with two other boys followed him into Shinjuku Station.

They were used to having soft-spoken boys like Light quiver in fear of them; not bang them up good and proper. So, proud, no bullshit-taking Light was in for it because when those pansies could not manage to intimidate someone on their own, they multiplied in numbers. Grade school was a bitch.

They had finally spotted him on the Yamanote Line going home so he had to get off a few stops early. Harajuku Station. His mom was not fond of him going there—did not want her only son to get any funky ideas from the eccentric teenagers that frequented the place.

He had veered south of the station and now turned left into Omotesando Avenue, running and heaving great labored breaths into his burning lungs. He shoved through the crowd of strolling, noisy adults hemmed in by the trees and neatly trimmed bushes on one side of the walk and the buildings on the other. Turning his head, he saw they had not turned the corner yet.

Quite violently, he bumped into a larger, denser body, falling back on his hunches. The cheek which hit the man's torso burned as much as his arse.

"Tahh…", he hissed, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth as he rubbed his abused backside.

"Little children shouldn't run through crowded places, especially when they are not looking forward," the man he bumped into said coldly. He grabbed Light under the armpits and hoisted him up onto his feet before he was trampled by absent-minded grown-ups.

Muttering a thank you as well as an apology, Light tried to run off when the man stopped him by the arm. Light looked up and saw that the "man" was quite young—maybe a teenager. Under his pulled up, thick, black hoodie sweater he had black hair and eyes and very pale skin, but it was difficult to tell if he was half-Japanese or completely foreign. He wore a pair of dowdy jeans and white sneakers, standing in a peculiar posture. He looked like a young hoodlum. Light was not comfortable with being touched by such a shady character.

"It's rude to crash into someone and just run off."

"I said I was sorry now let go, please! I'm in a hurry!"

"A grade schooler in a shopping district in Harajuku, running, looking behind him, and in a desperate hurry to escape. It's very suspicious."

Light was irritated and quite affronted with being called suspicious by a guy like him. Once again, he tried to dislodge the man's grip with a frustrated growl. He did not want to tarry under such a rude gaze with Yujirou and his thugs after him.

"There he is! Get him!" shouted a faint voice from behind.

"Now I'm going to get beat up because of you," he groaned with a frown.

"Why is that?"

Light looked over his shoulder at the three boys nearing quickly, rudely shoving through the crowd. Turning back around with a vexed scowl, he snapped, "Because one of them picked on me and I made him stop. Now they're mad."

The young man's grip on his arm remained firmly in place while he put a thumb to his lips in thought. "Made him stop, you say? And how do you make a bully stop bullying?"

"By kicking his ass."

"Ah. Yes, that would be the most effective way. Or so one would think but now the bullying has tripled. Literally."

Yujirou and his friends, Jun and Fusao, stopped suddenly, gasping but grinning triumphantly. "Hah!" cried Yujirou, "Nowhere to run now? You're gonna get it."

"Get what?" asked the strange man.

Yujirou's triumphant smirk turned into a sneer. "What?"

"Who the hell are you?" snapped the chubby one, Jun. Light rolled his eyes at him. They were such idiots; but idiots did make up the majority of the population and that was the only reason idiots had an irritating tendency to win over intellect. Sheer numbers.

"Quite a dirty mouth," muttered the strange man. Though Light could not see the his face, he heard the tinge of amusement in his cold tenor.

"Yeah, butt out. This is our business!" cried the third one, Fusao.

The stranger sighed and pulled Light behind him. "I'm afraid you're wrong. See, it's my job to defend the innocent and take down the criminals."

"Youneed to stop watching anime you Harajuku punk!" answered Yujirou smugly.

"I see you have no respect for your elders. What a badly reared miscreant. Well, let me put it this way: I heard from a very experienced and credible source that the best way of dealing with your ilk is," the young man leaned over Yujirou, towering considerably over the boy, "is to kick your ass."

Something in the man's face, which Light could not see with the hood blocking his profile, scared the hell out of Yujirou. Eyes wide and pale-faced, the boy backed up, turned on his heels and fled, his equally spineless lackeys right behind him.

Light stood behind the man in shocked silence as larger bodies scurried and pushed by. When the strange young man turned around, Light saw that his eyes were very wide and penetrating, in spite the fatigued shadows around them. He looked quite frightening in Light's young, impressionable mind.

"Um...thank you. For helping me," he ventured tentatively.

"You're welcome…ah?"

Light thought quickly. He did not want to give his name to a suspicious looking stranger. "It's…Tsuki. With the characters for luck." It was not that far off his real name but it was the quickest that had come to mind.

"Tsuki with the characters for luck—how fitting. But Tsuki-chan, you're lying to me."

Light flushed at being caught and, to keep his embarrassment hidden, retorted sarcastically, "Well, what's your name, detective-san?"

"You may call me Dupin."

Light stared at him skeptically. Then, when he recognized the name, a slow grin formed on his small face before he burst into laughter. He supposed he had that one coming for his derisive detective-san. The man was clever and had a witty sense of humor. An actual hoodlum would not have known the reference if it bit him in the ass. Light was surprised to find that he was beginning to like the stranger.

Yujirou was probably hanging around waiting to catch him once he left this young man's side. Not able to go back home any time soon, Light asked Dupin if he could stay with him a while.

"Of course," Dupin replied, "I didn't think those bullies would give up so soon. Criminals are like evil little bacteria; they hide when beaten, ready to burst out again once the coast is clear. That's why you always take extra precautions after they've retreated, to make sure they don't come back. Meantime, we can have tea and cake."

* * *

 

The man had taken him to a fairly pricey coffee shop nearby that sold European teas, coffees and pastries. The place looked very coquettish with glossy wood tables and cushioned seats; very open and airy with beautiful greenery outside. Right by the entry was a display glass with all sorts of artfully tasty looking cakes. Light's mouth watered as he stared at them.

There was so much diversity; everything was tempting. Light, who got tired of Japanese food, loved coming to these shops but his meager allowance money could never afford such a place. Since he was going to be treated, he would ask for as much as possible.

"Can I have three of them?"

The hooded youth turned to him and asked, "Tsuki-chan likes cake?"

"Yeah…?"

"Have as many as you want then. I will."

"Huh?" He probably thought Light would not order much due to his little frame. Was Dupin in for a shocker, he thought. "Are you rich, Dupin-san?" he inquired sarcastically but was once again impressed at Dupin's quick response.

"Yes, I am. And I'm going to have all of these, plus some Earl Grey."

"Um…I'll have all these," Light said, pointing his wide selection. "And some Earl Grey too."

So Dupin, smart-aleck teenage foreigner with a lot of money, was going to buy all Light asked for? The boy had to fight to suppress an excited grin. There was nothing more pleasurable to a child then the prospect of receiving all he desired.

Light went to go sit at a round table outside in the spring weather with the scent of cherry blossoms subtly lining the tepid air. An umbrella shaded him from the sun. It felt really good to be there. In spite Dupin being a little odd, he was interesting—and rich! Light could eat all the cake he wanted.

When Dupin sat across from him, he propped a leg on his chair and wrapped an arm around it. The posture was typical of a teenager. His mom warned him about following this sort's example. And that hoodie made him look more like a street urchin than a rich kid.

"Is your dad rich? What does he do?" he questioned both out of curiosity and to strike a conversation.

"My grandfather. He's an inventor."

"An inventor of what?"

"Things."

Light's face contorted into a frown. By the serious tone, he could not tell if that was an evasion, a joke, or Dupin was simply demented.

"Um…yes, what sort of things, I mean. Because I like that sort of stuff."

"Do you, now? Grandpa invents useful things, like spy gadgets for the government."

At this, Light sat up, countenance alight with interest. "That's awesome!"

Dupin nodded indulgently, apparently more concerned with his own questions. "And what have you invented? You said you liked this sort of stuff. I assume you've indulged in this interest?"

Light blushed. It was really embarrassing. A secret hobby he kept to himself. No one knew of his secret, but Light had opened his big mouth so he supposed he had to answer. He felt quite comfortable with it, to his amazement. Dupin was strange and suspicious looking, but something about him made Light feel at ease and open.

"I…well—don't laugh, okay!"

"There is nothing a child does that is stupid. You are in the process of growing and learning, all of which have no limits. Exploring even what most might consider whimsical, crude, or eccentric may be the foundation of ingenuity. I assure you I won't laugh."

That was an answer Light could chew on. Dupin was highly intelligent and it made Light want to talk a million things with him. With ill-suppressed excitement, he explained: "Okay, I checked out this really old book from the library by John Bate, _The Mysteries of Nature and Art_ , and I've been copying some recipes from it for practice; small versions of waterworks and fireworks, secret compartments in my furniture in my bedroom. I'm also learning how to draw and color with water colors quite well. It's not a useless book at all, like my teacher said."

The young man stared at him with an odd, unreadable expression for a good moment before speaking again. "Tsuki-chan, you're tracing Isaac Newton's childhood projects."

"H-how did you know?"

"You're copying recipes from John Bate's book. Newton did around your age."

"You know about that?"

"Don't look so surprised. Everyone should know about that. It's common knowledge."

"They _should_ but they _don't._ You're twisting hairs! Of course I am surprised—I thought you were just another Harajuku weirdo. Teenagers are supposed to be stupid and barbaric and they pick on me all the time. And you knew I'd be surprised because it's rare for teenagers to talk like that. You're toying with me—making me ask questions you know I'll ask."

Dupin chuckled, a slight smile breaking his austere visage. He looked very pleased for some reason. "You caught me. You're clever for your age. But I'm not 'toying' with you. Dissecting you makes you more easily understood. Long explanations can mislead, short answers to the right questions makes for a clean, succinct conversation."

"Oh."

"Ah, here comes our tea."

A young waitress carried a tray in one hand with their steaming beverages. As she placed them on the table, Light noted the fine, painted china tea set in which their drinks were served, the intricately engraved sterling silver of their utensils, even as he sat on a white padded Victorian garden chair. He felt like an English prince and he delighted in this illusion of exaltation.

Soon their desserts followed and their table was littered with different cakes and mousses.

"You can have a taste of everything if you like," Dupin said, studying him closely, and Light did so without any false coyness.

Dupin chortled softly at Light's display, remarking, "Children are so honest about their desires. Pity they grow out of it."

Light did not know what the young man meant. How was enjoying cake an expression of honesty? Ignoring the comment, he sipped his tea.

Dupin put an appallingly large amount of sugar in his. "I don't want to completely cover the taste of this tea with sweetener so I put only five teaspoons in it."

Light nodded silently with a slight sneer on his face, unsure on how to answer that.

_Only five?_

* * *

 

Overall it had been a pleasant afternoon. Light would have gone home content that day. They had chatted idly about Light's school, books, Dupin's grandfather's inventions; and Dupin had been a great listener. Light had the most splendid conversation of his life. They ate all their desserts, drank a few more cups of tea and would have gone their separate ways.

"Would you like a ride home, Tsuki-chan?" Dupin asked.

"I'd love one, thanks."

Nodding, Dupin turned to lead him out of Omotesando when a terrified scream cut through the air. Light was startled and tried to see what had happened across the street. At the end of the block people were running over at something near the Laforet building.

Dupin was at once alert and running towards the source with Light following close behind. There was a crowd around something, murmuring, gasping and pointing at the thing that had caused several people to scream in horror.

Dupin cut through the bodies, Light holding onto the hem of his hoodie until the young man stopped abruptly.

On the floor was a boy around Light's age, dead. A pool of dark blood beneath him spread wider, growing thicker. Black eyes were opened, unstaring, mouth livid and slack. The air was tinged with a cloying sweetness that made Light gag. His body numb, head swirling, Light bent over and threw up.

He was nowhere finished ejecting all the cake he ate when he vaguely felt a hand cover his eyes and a very strong arm wrap around his shoulders, pulling him away.

"You shouldn't have seen that, Tsuki-chan," he heard above him. Light had to strain to listen. He had to keep reminding himself to pull it together or the light-headedness was going to make him faint.

"I should have been more careful," Dupin murmured to him softly. "But I promise to take care of this. Because of my carelessness. Because you had to see it. I'll take care of it, Tsuki-chan."

Despite the words and the hand rubbing his little, chilled back, Light found no comfort.


	2. The Murder

His vision bleary and mind in shocked haze Light felt himself dragged away from the crowd. Dizzy and disoriented, his sense of reality had been pulled from under him. Dupin finally led Light inside a building, a clothing store across the street from the Laforet building and the grotesque murder scene.

It grew quiet as the glass door closed slowly with an almost inaudible click. Voices full of astonishment and horror and approaching sirens were all suddenly muffled. The ruckus appeared to Light to be very far away. Whatever costumers had been in the store had obviously gone outside to witness… _that_. In spite being safe inside, Light felt just as cold, even under his navy-blue uniform jacket, and shivered violently.

Dupin crouched down in front of him and looked up at his tear-streaked face. Light could see his round, pale features more clearly. His large, dark eyes held cool concern, yet with something Light would feel from an older brother. He was certain of it, sensed such intimacy between them and wondered why he felt such a strong connection with this stranger? Why was Dupin so worried about him? Why did Light feel like it was natural? Perhaps because they had gotten along so well? Maybe Dupin had a younger brother back home?

The young man's cheeks were smooth and full, and in spite his penetrating dark gaze, his moon-like features made him look far younger than he sounded. "Listen, Tsuki-chan," he voiced gently, "I want you to forget what you just saw. Look at me." He grabbed Light's face when the boy went to look out the window. "Do not think any further on what's going on outside. Leave it all to me…and please forgive me for being so thoughtless as to allow you to follow me into that." He looked away momentarily, seeming to think carefully, before returning his stare to the boy and muttered, "I am not used to thinking about others." With a sigh, Dupin stood, a hand still lingering on Light's cheek to keep him from looking outside.

Light new they could not see anything from where they stood, but he was acutely aware that, being a child, he would be carefully protected—even by a man that claimed not to consider others in his actions. He would have frowned at that if it were not for his own desire to be kept safe from what he had just seen.

wanted to do exactly as he was told and forget. Unfortunately the sight of that poor boy lying over his own blood, eyes open, blackish blood glistening inside his slack mouth, lips blue on a livid little face still flashed vividly in front of Light's eyes. He tried to keep his trembling and his pathetic whimpers under control but it was much too hard for him.

The way he was reacting and his lack of control was quite funny, he thought blearily, considering that after his father warned him about these things when Light would ignorantly beg to be taken to the crime scenes with him, he had thought that nothing would shake him. He would get angry at his father for underestimating him just because he was nine years old. He had always thought he was better than most kids his age and that adults should not treat him the same way.

He had even imaginedgruesome crime scenes, his own self standing over the imaginary body composed as he helped his father solve the case which he would be praised for later. He had seen some despicable things the human mind was able to conjure up on television. He had always thought it would be easy to keep calm in such situations the way he did when secretly watching violent rated R movies with his friends.

What he had just seen, however, had been nothing like what he had imagined or seen on television. Movies had shown more creative atrocities, but nothing could prepare him for the simple sight of a real, freshly killed body; the cloying stench of blood, its blackish color and surprising thickness of its substance, the confusion, or the pitiful sight of that person's face. That real person, about Light's age, who that same morning had woken up the same way Light had, to the same city air and the same Tokyo sun. Dare he believe the boy had enjoyed a nice breakfast with the same kind of family before going to school and spending time with friends—the same as Light had done? Yet one boy lay in the middle of the street outside bathed in his own blood and would never reach the warmth of his home and family as he had surly planned to on his last walk there.

A coarse, harsh sob escaped Light's throat, wracking his little frame. The sound and feeling of it leaving his body for some illogical reason caused him to break into more sobs, until he was sniveling and shuddering into Dupin's midriff. He clutched at the young man's clothes as if he were about to drown. Light felt an uncomfortable sharpness in his chest as he let himself cry, soaking up Dupin's black sweater. Soon he realized the feeling was a very deep sadness and he could not understand why it was there.

He asked Dupin, certain that an intelligent older person would have the answer.

"Because you are human, Tsuki-chan," he replied while rubbing his little back, his other hand firmly on Light's shoulder. "It's in our nature to feel for other human beings. This is the nature that sometimes compels most of us to act—to accomplish things to make the world better, so that none of us would have to feel sad for others, nor for ourselves. Some of us choose to protect people from such tragedies…and others think that some people need to suffer in order to understand suffering and so they commit such crimes. It's okay to feel sad for someone you never met because that person is human, same as you, right? Compassion is a natural force in us which we should use to build and perfect our society. Without it even the law would have little power over our actions." Dupin pulled Light off and looked down into the boy's eyes meaningfully.

Strangely, this sobered him and Light nodded in agreement, though the words were still sinking into his jumbled thoughts. Suddenly an idea struck him. "Dupin-san…was that…did someone do that to that boy?" He sounded more childish than usual; perhaps because for the first time Light actually felthis age.

He watched as a delicate frown appeared between the young man's eyes, and that answered his question before Dupin uttered it. "I am not one hundred percent sure, Tsuki-chan, but that is most likely the case. That is what I am going to figure out."

Suddenly, Light let out a dry chuckle even though tears were still running down his pallid cheeks. "Like Dupin?"

A tiny quirk appeared on the side of the young man's lips as he winked. "Call me Auguste Dupin," he joked lightly, even though his voice held no emotion whatsoever.

A voice from behind interrupted them, though by Dupin's expectant countenance, Light could tell he knew that person had been there for some time and was about to speak. "Is he alright? We have a couch over in the back next to the dressing rooms if you need it," said a female.

Light looked up and saw a pretty woman, nicely dressed and smelling of sweet perfume. She smiled at him kindly and her tone was a little overly sweet, the way childless adults spoke to children, like he was stupid. She introduced herself and asked what his name was, but Light was feeling too vulnerable to care.

Thankfully, Dupin answered for him. Light once again was unsure of the young man's exact age. At times his behavior seemed relative to a teenager but there was this commanding and highly intelligent side that told him the man was probably older.

"He's Tsuki-chan. I'm Dupin, visiting my cousin from abroad. He'll be fine. Can you bring him some water? We'll be at the couch."

"Of course, right away!"

As the storekeeper turned away, Dupin gently pushed his shoulder, guiding him to the back of the clothing store. Once Light sat down, Dupin knelt before him. "Now listen carefully. I'm going to leave you with the kind lady for a few moments-" Light started to disagree but Dupin held up a hand to silence him. "I need to go ask any possible witnesses a few questions real quick. I'll be back soon." Without waiting for a reply, he ran out of the store.

Light never felt lonelier in his life. A sudden attack of paranoia hit him and he looked around the ominously empty store. What if the killer was still lurking around? What if it was a serial murderer that went after children? All his lofty presuppositions of his precocious mind flew out the window as he started to shake, begging under his breath for Dupin's quick return.

The storekeeper walked briskly out of a back door and towards him, heels clacking loudly in the eerily quiet store. She handed him a glass of water while looking around with a frown. Light cupped it securely between both hands, and to please the adult, he took a small sip before placing the glass on his lap.

"Oh dear, where is your cousin? He didn't leave you alone here, did he?"

Light shook his head. The lie flew out of his lips smoothly—he was used to pleasing adults with answers they wanted. "No, Ma'am. He just went to find a payphone to call our parents to pick us up."

"Oh, but he could have used the store's phone."

"He didn't want to wait to ask you for permission and said he saw one around the corner."

She sighed and sat on the arm at the other end of the couch. Light felt a little less lonely but not less safe. He wanted Dupin to hurry up and come back.

"Are you feeling better?"

Light nodded with a "Yes, thank you," and took another sip to complacent her concern. Women had a soft spot for children, he knew, and would not give up as easily as a man would if he showed signs of stress. Sure enough, the lady—he had not really listened when she introduced herself—seemed to buy his act and chatted with him about some neighbor's kid, or something, who was about his own age, she said. He half-listened to her soft, melodic voice. It was a pleasant, soothing sound. If he paid close attention to her words he would not be able to enjoy the chiming, silvery sound that seemed to caress the back of his skull. He felt like his head was being petted and it relaxed him.

His paranoia assuaged a little, he cleared his mind of unreasonable fears and thought of Dupin. Whoever the stranger was, he was confident about helping solve that atrocious murder. Was he a detective? If so then he was definitely older than a teenager. But Dupin had pretty much confessed that he was not a real, legal investigator.

The idea made his heart race. It was illegal but now that some of the shock was gone he felt a growing righteous anger and desire to help Dupin. Whoever had the audacity and the despicable cruelty to lift a murderous hand against a child should be put on Death Row immediately. The thought of helping with that, of bringing justice to that poor boy, brought some spirit back into him.

The sound of the woman's gentle voice certainly took away his sense of time, for which he was grateful, and soon enough Dupin had returned. The lady stood and asked him, "Are your parents going to come get you? If not I can give you a ride."

Dupin glanced at Light quickly before looking back at the storekeeper. "That's very kind of you but no, thank you. We'll be meeting my dad down the block. It's best not to drive close by the chaos down the street. Thank you for everything." His eyes fell on Light as he gestured with his head to follow. "Come on, let's go."

Light was more than glad to. Handing back the glass to the lady, he thanked her genuinely, grabbed Dupin's hand and let himself be guided out the building.

Dupin walked hastily with one hand holding Light's as the other flicked a gray, fancy cell phone open with a short antenna and nimbly dialed a number. "I'm going to arrange for someone to drop you off at your house. You'll be safe."

Light's heart plummeted at that and he snatched his hand away from Dupin's as he goggled up at him. "No! What about the murderer?"

"What about it? I'll find him but you need to head home. I can't have you following me around, hindering my investigation. It's bad enough I have to spare my subordinate for you when he could be finding information for me."

Glaring at the young man, Light shook his head stubbornly. "No. I want to help."

Much to Light's indignation, Dupin let out a scornful, cold laugh, showing only the tip of his teeth. "Cute but I don't need your help. You'll slow me down and I have babysat you enough."

That hurt. Babysat? Light had really thought he found an intelligent older friend that neither denounced him as a mere child nor exalted him as a prodigy. Someone that saw him as an equal. But Dupin was really a jerk.

Light pursed his lips to keep from crying and did what his gut instinct told him to do. He ran away, not bothering to see where he went, with Dupin's cries following him.

He knew the young man would run after him, and was probably fast, but Light was swift and nimble from hours of playing tennis, and being small, he lost himself in the excited crowd of Omotesando Avenue. He turned into a street, rounded a building and slid into a narrow, dingy alley. He leaned back against the wall, backpack snug between it and the curve of his back making it more comfortable to slouch.

What was he going to do now? Light rarely acted impetuously, but when he was angered or backed into a corner, he was prone to react without thinking. He wanted to help Dupin—and he knew that he would not be a hindrance, but how could he prove that to the stubborn jerk? Light did not have the courage to go back to the murder scene, but…if he did not find the courage to look death in the face, how could he help bring justice to someone?

If he wanted to prove that he was not like other kids, that he was smarter, stronger, better _,_ then he needed to be able to stand firm in a situation like that. Light bit his lips as shame began to fill him, remembering how childish and dependent he had acted with Dupin.

By redeeming himself, he could prove Dupin that he was capable of pitching in his two cents to help catch the culprit.

Steeling himself with a loud, shaky sigh, Light was about to walk out when he heard quick footsteps approaching. Thinking that the young man figured out where he was hiding, Light quickly looked around, found a pile of trash bags and knelt between them and an old, thrown-out fridge.

The footsteps where heavy and loud, coming from the opposite direction where Light had entered the alley. They stopped abruptly, followed by soft noises of something being shifted—probably throwing out the trash—before the person continued past Light. When he peeked from out of his little makeshift crevice he saw that it was not Dupin but a large man, longish black hair, in a chino jacket and dirty pants. The man turned right, opposite of Omotesando.

Light slowly came out of his hiding place looking fixedly at the street where the man had disappeared. He crept out of the little alley, stepping out into Omotesando guardedly. The crowd, the excitement and snippets of conversations he caught about the murder scene up ahead brought back his paranoia. He had left Dupin's side in a reckless fit and the killer was on the loose. A killer that had no qualms about murdering young boys walking alone.

He forced himself to keep walking, glancing around for any signs of Dupin. Maybe if he returned to that coffee shop he might have a better chance and finding him. Dupin wanted to solve that case so he should be lurking nearby. It was Light's best shot.

No. He needed to stop being dependent. First he would go blend in with the crowd around the crime scene. By now the body must have been taken away but there would be cops, real detectives on the site. He would follow Dupin's example and ask the onlookers nearby if they saw anything, and maybe listen in to what the officers were saying. He could act like a curious bystander that had just arrived at the scene.

Light bit his lip. That should have been the first thing to do instead of hiding in a clothing store. No wonder Dupin thought he would hold him back.

On his way, he passed by two men in a heated discussion that sparked his attention. On the sidewalk near where he had run into Dupin after being chased by bullies, he saw a tall, middle-aged man with a younger, burly companion who was the one trying to passionately express his opinion.

"I'm telling you I know what I'm talking about," he said. "I was trying to stench the wound before the medics came. It was neat between the ribs, straight for the lungs. The target can't cry out for help; dies choking but quickly. They teach us that in the corps. Had to be trained."

"You told the cops?"

"Of course! But if this guy is military he'll know how to cover his tracks."

Light's heart sped. Were they talking about the boy's killer? Is that how the boy died? Stab wound to the lungs?

That had to be it. And trapped within the utter massiveness of the Harajuku crowd, and the ruckus it made, a small child toppling over would not be noticed immediately until someone close by snapped out of their own little world. Such was the danger of these overpopulated areas. If he went to Dupin with this, he could prove that he was capable of helping out.

Quite obviously he had loitered around too long near those men because a few adults standing around in conversation were beginning to shoot him odd looks. He heard a woman ask softly, "is that boy alone? Where are his parents?"

If an adult caught him there all by himself, still shaking from the encounter with a dead body they would definitely try to keep him from going anywhere while prying his parents' number out of him. He strode away quickly, back up Omotesando towards the coffee shop where he hoped he would come across Dupin.

It might have been the adrenaline, the fear and anticipation, but Light shivered in his jacket. He closed it and placed his cold hands inside the pockets to keep them warm as well as still.

He could not say if he regretted leaving Dupin's side, not with the information he had acquired by doing so, but he wanted more than anything right now to feel safe again, his little trembling hand wrapped snugly in the stranger's.


	3. The Prime Suspect

There was tape now around the scene, detectives stood over kneeling forensic specialists, and capped officers kept the onlookers at bay. The crowd had grown scarce and Light could see the crime scene from the back. He saw the blood puddle on the dark pavement (how cold and hard it must have been) beyond shifting waist-lines and hips and the white tape, and felt sick. He'd been walking around here alone. It could have been him. It could have been _his_ blood.

He remembered Dupin's low, scornful laugh as he called him "cute" for offering to help. It made him feel so small and helpless; he _hated_ that feeling. This indignation was good though, it gave him the determination to look at the blood spattered on the street and overcome his illness. He could not be rendered helpless if he wanted to help someone, even if it was to avenge his death—especially to avenge him. But Light couldn't let feelings of compassion get in the way of an investigation.

His father had said so. There was time enough to feel sorry _after_ the killer's been caught, he'd say.

Just then he caught sight of Dupin on that gray cell phone further up, walking away from the crowd, around the corner from Laforet, and crossed the wide busy street. Cars honked as Meiji Street, which crossed Omotesando was narrowed for them by tape and police vehicles. The hooded young man stopped at a small, inexpensive restaurant and he sat at an empty table, one foot on the chair, arm slung over the knee while he listened attentively to the person on the other line. His black hood fell over his face, and with the big blue jeans it made him appear suspiciously like a gang member.

Running up to him, he was careful with the angry drivers and the pack of confused people walking up and down the street; most likely still talking about the...victim.

He was determined to help avenge him. He wasn't going to let Dupin call his parents. If he did, Light would just run away again.

As if sensing Light, the young man looked up, revealing his pale moon-shaped face, and spotted him. He beckoned the boy with his free hand as he spoke something in English into his cell. Flipping it closed, he glared at Light and said, "Tsuki-chan is very disobedient. I would have liked to advise his parents on using stricter forms of disciplinary action if I didn't find the bother of speaking to people more than necessary exasperating."

Light was about to retort angrily when Dupin gestured for silence with a snow-white hand. "That really is of no importance now. I have a prime suspect. Would Tsuki-chan like to know more?"

The boy could only gape in wonder at the young man. Already? He mulled over those words slowly. "A prime suspect? He might not be the killer?"

"He most likely _might_ be. The victim is little Taro Higuri, age eleven. He went to Jingumae Elementary school, just up the avenue. His mother is Maki Higuri, thirty, young single parent. She was arrested a few years ago for speeding past a red light, distracted, and crashed into the side of a car killing the passenger: an eleven year old boy named You Takanaga. His father, the driver, was in a coma for six months. Kaie Takanaga used to be in the army, he dropped out as soon as he woke up from coma. He disappeared since. Higuri-san was jailed for a year, but charged not guilty and set free, happily reuniting with her son. That is a very strong motive for Takanaga to have murdered her son."

"Takanaga?" Light uttered the name slowly.

Dupin nodded and said, "If he is indeed running around and vindictive, we can be sure he is not sane. These types of killers are known not to be satisfied with one kill and seek vengeance repeatedly. I suggest Tsuki-chan not leave my sight."

What Dupin had said about the killer sent a chill down Light's spine, as if a ghostly nail gently teased it, daring his newfound resolve. But he refused to go home until he saw this through. He was about to say so when Dupin gave him a wry grin, showing only the tip of his straight line of teeth. "I won't send Tsuki-chan home. I can't spare my man on you or I assure you I would have. But he has to investigate for me. And I don't feel secure putting you in a cab alone either."

Glancing down, Light felt a warring combination of relief and guilt for causing Dupin trouble. He nodded sheepishly.

"Please sit, Tsuki-chan, you have had a rough day. I worry I am at fault for any post-traumatic stress you will suffer in days to come."

"I'm not!"

"Tsuki-chan says that now—he is fueled by righteousness. But once that is gone…Tsuki-chan has much to learn, and he will learn it from experience."

Huffing, Light went to sit on the chair directly across from Dupin, unslinging the growing burden of his bookbag from his shoulder. It was a regular restaurant, plastic white chairs, round tin table, not very big. As aggravating as Dupin was turning out to be, Light was profoundly glad to be with him again. He felt safe, but he also admitted in his secret thoughts that he enjoyed the company.

"I heard some guys talking back there," he ventured. With all that Dupin had discovered, the information Light had acquired now seemed quite pointless, and he felt stupid speaking out loud. For some reason, he tried anyway. He wanted Dupin to know that at least Light was serious about helping and he wouldn't be a hindrance.

"Yes, go on, Tsuki-chan."

"Um…well, one of them said he was next to the boy, trying to stop the bleeding. He said that the wound was a…'neat cut between the ribs; straight for the lungs;' that the victim 'choked and was unable to cry for help,' and that the killer is probably trained. 'They teach us that in the corps' he said. So I think the man talking was in the army too and that's how he guessed so well."

Dupin's face was half shadowed; his huge, black pupils and irises blended and were so large, leaving very little white left, that Light couldn't tell what was behind those peculiar eyes, but there was a small quirk of the lips that was perhaps a smile. Light couldn't tell if it was amusement or genuine fondness.

Dupin said, "Tsuki-chan is very intelligent. I wish I could see what he'll be like as a grown man. You did very good remembering all that. Might make a fine detective some day," and winked.

Light barely caught the gesture beneath the shadow of the hood, but it was certainly there, and heat suddenly sprouted from beneath the skin of his face. Light felt his ears burn also in pleasure. He was always being complimented for his brains but an honest praise coming from Dupin made him feel both modestly unworthy and superbly happy. Light wanted Dupin to recognize his talents. Maybe because Dupin was "special" yet, being older, he was also Light's superior.

"Thank you," he whispered coyly, fighting back a wide smile that threatened to crack his face.

Dupin nodded obligingly and stood up. "Come on. We're going back to my hotel room. It's not far. I need to use my computer."

"Comp…you mean you have one of those _laptops_?"

"…yes, Tsuki-chan."

"Oh, that is so cool. I wish I could buy one."

"You'll have one. Pretty soon they won't be that costly…or rare in the middle-class home."

* * *

Light had yet to see a room so luxurious as the hotel room. The parlor was bigger than his house's living room. The brocaded sofas _gleamed_. Light was tempted to run his hand on the soft back cushion of one.

Dupin strode briskly in that teenage rebel hunch straight for a sleek, square contraption on a table by the tall windows. He opened it, and started it up with a distinctive whirring. "My subordinate has sent Takanaga's file and picture. Would Tsuki-chan like to come and see?"

Light abandoned his inspection of the fancy fire-poker, slipped it back onto its hook and ran over to him. The young man sat on a wide armchair with both feet up like a little kid. Light once again thought about Dupin's age. Perhaps he was indeed an exceptionally precocious teenager that, however grand his intellectual development, had yet to lose his childish habits.

Dupin scooted over and signaled for Light to sit next to him. The boy was small and Dupin skinny enough for both to fit quite comfortably together, so Light went and sat with his feet up, just like Dupin. This made the young man smile amusedly at him.

"Comfortable, no?"

Light nodded.

"The mind needs the body to be comfortable. Now, look. This is Takanaga."

The picture was a Japanese man, with a handsome austere face, very short black hair and tanned skin, wearing a military uniform. Dupin clicked on a key and another picture came up with three people, two men and a woman, small glimpses of people dining in tables behind them. Takanaga was one of the men, in civilian clothes, hair a little longer. He was no longer half as attractive with hollowed cheeks, sporting rough stubble and large bags under eyes which looked dead. His upper lip curled upward slightly in a sneer that was not present in the previous photo. A failed attempt at smiling, Light realized.

"This is a recent photo taken at a restaurant he frequents."

Light looked closely at something that struck familiar out of the picture.

"That jacket…do a lot of men wear it?" he asked, recalling where he had seen it.

"Don't think so. It's military issue."

"Military?"

"Yes. Personnel are not allowed to wear civilian garments over their uniforms. They have many types of uniforms and many ways to wear them depending on occasion and weather. Casual uniform dress doesn't require coats so they wear these chino windbreakers."

"But he's wearing it over normal clothes."

Shrugging, he replied, "Veterans do that."

"So that man was right, he is trained."

Dupin nodded. "Probably why he got away with it in broad daylight."

"I think I saw a man wearing this jacket."

The young man turned his head sharply and stared at him attentively. "When? Where?"

"Right after I ran from you. I went to hide in an alley. Then I heard someone come and thought it might be you so I hid. The person stopped, made a lot of noise then left the way I came. I thought they were taking out the trash. When he passed by me I looked and it was a big man, medium-length black hair, wearing this." He gestured at the jacket.

Dupin did not waste a beat. "Show me to this place, Tsuki-chan. You now have more information than I do."

* * *

The side of the alley was darker than before. The sun was beginning to dip. Early spring still had slightly shorter days, and around five the sun was large, red-gold and low on the western horizon. The shadows cast by the littered junk in the alley were bigger than when Light last remembered. It was growing dark and the air chillier quite fast.

"I was here," he stated, pointing to a cleft between a tattered fridge and a tall pile of trash bags. "The sound came from over there." He gestured back to the other end of the alley.

Nodding, Dupin asked, "Which way did the man go? Did you see?"

Light pointed the way which they had come. "Opposite of Omotesando. I didn't see anymore because I stayed here for a while longer."

"This leads straight to Takeshita Street. Hold on." Dupin flipped his grey cell phone open and dialed quickly. The person must have answered on the first ring because Dupin immediately began to order whoever it was. Light was amazed at how impressive and commanding he sounded while looking so well-fitted in the dingy alley with his shabby clothes.

"I need you to get hold of surveillance tapes on Harajuku Station Takeshita Exit. Takanaga might have gone through there…yes, exactly. Thank you." He flipped the cell phone shut. Concise and effective, another pair of traits that Light admired.

He considered what the young man just said. There were still many other places Takanaga could go from here, if the man he saw was indeed their prime suspect. But it made sense that Takanaga would go straight for a way out of Harajuku, far from the crime scene.

"I see," Light said, "Takanaga was reckless…committing that…crime in broad daylight. He took the less populated way to the station. But what would he do _here_?" He nodded at the alley.

"Probably getting rid of the murder weapon. Here," Dupin produced a small cylindrical object from the enormous pockets he must have on his big jeans, and gave it to Light.

It was a small flashlight.

"Don't touch anything; you might affect the state of the evidence. Just aim the light where I'm looking." From his pockets he took out a pair of gloves.

This slightly surprised the boy. "You—" Light cut himself off. He wanted to ask if Dupin was indeed a real detective, but a strong gut feeling told him Dupin would not give that answer so easily, at least not a straightforward one.

It didn't matter. Dupin and the person he spoke to over the phone have the ability to obtain important information; they had the wealth to do it. Light was just glad he could help. The work kept the image of the murder divorced from his thoughts. Light pushed back with all his will, focusing on his task, on Dupin and on _finding_ the killer. Not the killer himself. Not the victim.

He knew what his father would say: "Don't let emotions get in the way." But Light had come to discover through his first experience with the terror and sadness of a real homicide case that those words were easier said than done. Surprising and impacting happenings could render someone who thought themselves perfectly composed into a nervous wreck quite easily. It was a matter of getting used to "impacts". Which Light was not. He was used to comfort and safety.

Light wasn't sure he wanted to get used to these terrible "impacts". Death was the most frightening thing in the universe. He couldn't imagine dying; the thought alone almost paralyzed him with terror.

Distracted with his morbid thoughts, Light absently drew closer to Dupin, who began to rummage carefully through the junk with his gloved hands. He stood right next to the young man, his little arm almost touching the man's waist as he pointed the flashlight at the bags and cardboard boxes littered against some building's dirty wall.

He felt the hairs on his nape prickle, as if a cold apparition was breathing on him from behind, and his young mind generated all kinds of horrible ideas that could happen. It was as if Death Itself was there, and if he turned around It would smile horribly at him and pull him away from Dupin's side.

What if the killer came back and stabbed them both? What if he would never reach the warmth of his home and parents just like that boy…Taro Higuri? Like You Takanaga.

"I'm scared," he whispered, even though it was stupid and childish and weak and he didn't want Dupin to see him like that. He also wanted Dupin to understand, and for some reason, Light was comfortable showing his weakness to him.

The young man looked up and peered at him closely. Light could never tell what Dupin was thinking behind the dark, fathomless pools of his eyes. But he knew there was not a drop of scorn in him, and that was why he trusted the eccentric self-employed detective.

Dupin straightened his back a little and pulled Light in front of him, pressed close to his chest, while wrapping a warm, strong arm around his little shoulders. He bent over the boy's other shoulder and began to search through the junk with his one free hand. "Keep the light straight, Tsuki-chan," was all he said.

Light was glad of that. He realized that, that was what he had wanted all along; for Dupin to make him feel safe without mentioning or asking about his fears, and putting him to use.

"You're going to find him for sure," he uttered softly but confidently.

He heard a sniff right next to his ear which must have been a laugh, before Dupin replied, " _We'll_ find him. Tsuki-chan has given me my first lead already."


	4. The Evidence

After about an hour's search they found nothing among the alleyway's garbage. Dupin took off his disposable gloves with a small exasperated sigh and threw them among the scattered rubbish from a torn bag. The shadows of the buildings across covered everything except the top of the buildings in front of them, still golden with the setting sun. It was definitely chillier, Light thought, pulling up the collar flaps of his navy-blue coat.

"Nothing. I suppose I'll have someone make a second search later."

Light narrowed his eyes contemplatively, then looked up at the young man. "Perhaps it wasn't him?"

"That's a high possibility."

"But I was thinking perhaps he came to take something instead of dropping it."

Dupin turned to meet his stare. "I was thinking that too. Very good deduction, Tsuki-chan."

Light looked down and shrugged. "What else could it be?" he answered modestly. Usually he would have either beamed proudly or simply nodded indulgently—he expected praise, being largely accustomed to it. But, Light again discovered, it was because such praise rarely came from someone as special as Dupin.

"So if that man is Takanaga, and if he picked something up, what could it possibly be that he could not carry with him?"

"It would be folly to make any assumptions at this stage. We need more leads."

"Yes, you're right. So what are we going to do?" A sudden cold wind whipped through the alley making him shiver and he unconsciously wrapped his arms around himself.

"Tsuki-chan is cold," Dupin muttered, stepping sideways from the pile of trash and heading for the street. "Come on, there's nothing left for us to do here. Let's go where there's sun. Discomfort of the body is a major distraction, decreasing deduction ability by roughly forty percent."

Light already knew that if he was too busy thinking about how cold he was he wouldn't concentrate well, but it did make him smile the way Dupin sounded like he was teaching an important subject even when he said something as obvious as that.

They stepped back out onto Omotesando when Dupin's phone rang. Light noticed that even though Dupin was apt in curbing his facial expressions, when he heard something that took his interest or required his full attention, his eyes narrowed just the slightest bit. They kept walking down the street while Dupin listened to the person on the other line; they were heading in the direction of his hotel down Meiji Street, about five blocks.

Light saw the base of the tall tower appear and frowned. Dupin murmured in English over the phone so despite knowing a few phrases Light still didn't understand what he was saying. About a block down Dupin ended the call.

"Did your friend find something?" Light asked and stifled a gasp when Dupin surprisingly took hold of his hand to cross the street. People here were mostly unaware of what had happened several blocks down and carried on normally, cheerfully chatting or shouting into their cell phones about their business, walking briskly or leisurely. Cars honked, people walked swiftly to either side of the crossway during a red light. Everything was normal…yet it seemed quite alien to Light at the moment. It was peculiar how the things that usually bring comfort because of their simplicity and regularity become strange and unreal when something "impacting" happened; something that cracked that pattern suddenly turned everything Light saw every day into a travesty of itself.

The enormous casements in Dupin's rooms faced west so the large Six O'clock sun hit the quarters directly in a brilliant display of gold with pink and blue hues over pale walls, glistening ornaments and sleek, brocaded furniture. Dupin immediately went over to his laptop upon entering, while Light walked thoughtfully towards the white framed double doors that opened outward onto the balcony.

The city sounds engulfed his ears as he walked over to the pale rail and leaned over it. A few artificial lights began to flicker in nearby buildings. The sun slowly dipped beneath the dark tall structures. The celestial disk was turning larger and orange, having more amount of atmosphere for its radiation to traverse.

His parents must be terribly worried. He wished he could call them and tell them he was alright, but then he'd be forced to tell them where he was and they'd come pick him up, chastise him, fawn over him…it was to be expected under the profound relief of the scare he was giving them. But at least their fears where unfounded, not like Taro Higuri's mom whose concern would be met with greater grief—most likely already had. But he could not go home yet, the thought made him ill for some reason. Something inside his mind—no—it came from his chest or somewhere in his center—this _thing_ compelled Light to remain with Dupin and help him catch the culprit, no matter how little he pitched in.

Light needed to see the killer captured, handcuffed and on his way to jail; to justice. Anger at the heinous crime that had been done, and that strange dejection that somehow made it feel personal even though Light never met Taro, forced him to stay by Dupin's side for a little while longer.

Taro Higuri had been walking home from school, probably hungry like all children were after a long day of learning, and looking forward for a snack and his mom's cooking, before his life was so abruptly and horribly taken from him. Ratio could only imagine the fear, pain, and coldness…the loneliness that Taro must have felt lying and bleeding on the street as people walked by, some trying to help in vain.

Nostrils flared as Light's vivid, innocent imagination carried his tender young sentiments away. He narrowed his eyes at the Harajuku sun and vowed to see the killer fall, like a tiny reflection of those old samurai long gone from his country. His parents forgive him for making them worry but he could not sleep soundly unless he saw this through. Takanaga might be a grieving father but that gave him no right to destroy an innocent boy to appease his selfish vengeance.

With his passionate thoughts enflaming his righteous conviction, time passed quite swiftly, and in what seemed moments to him Dupin appeared behind with news. "Tsuki-chan, listen. Takanaga might have been spotted loitering in Harajuku Station near Takeshita. It's most likely the man you saw. If that really is Takanaga I do not want Tsuki-chan to be endangered."

"B-but!"

Dupin looked down at him sternly, the deep warm sunlight struck his eyes directly and Light saw that they were not black but a charcoal gray with fine blue swirls. And they were not as "blank" as they first appeared, but behind the controlled gaze was a spirit rife with determination and thirst for truth. It hit Light that Dupin loved his job. Perhaps the young man felt the same as him about the injustice done Taro Higuri.

"Please let me go! I promise I won't hinder you! I want to see-"

"Out of the question, Tsuki-chan. You are staying here, out of harm's way."

"B-but-"

"That's enough. Do not pursue the matter. Tsuki-chan is more rebellious than he makes himself seem. If you continue to insist on getting your way I _will_ find a means to transport you home. I refuse to be set back on my investigation by an ignorant, rebellious child who seems to want to bring himself only grief."

Light closed his defiant lips at the threat and glared up at Dupin. As much as he admired the young man, Dupin's incivility and bluntly impudent treatment of Light rankled the boy.

Fine. He could follow later.

Turning on his heels, Dupin called over his shoulder from inside, "Watch television and order some sweets from room service, whatever Tsuki-chan desires. Just behave and wait here." And with that he stepped out of the hotel room, closing the door firmly shut behind him.

Light waited for a few moments with a slight pout on his small lips, glaring at the front door, then resolutely walked towards it, yanked it open angrily, and slammed it shut behind him. He didn't need to follow Dupin; he knew where the suspect was located.

Unfortunately, when he got to the bottom floor he had barely stepped foot on the lobby as the sleek elevator doors slid closed behind him when a man in a black suit and tie, perfect hair, and impeccable posture strode swiftly towards him. "You must be, ah, Dupin-sama's little nephew, Tsuki-kun. I'm afraid I've been authorized not to let you leave the hotel by yourself for your own safety. Your uncle's worried you might get lost and I cannot in any good sense allow the charge of our special guest to fall into any undesirable situation. Allow me to escort you back to your room."

"What? No! You can't!" he cried as the man grabbed his shoulder and nudged him back into the elevator.

"Now, young Tsuki-kun, don't be so disrespectful. You must honor the wishes of your elders like a good child. Come on."

The hotel manager, Kouta, as Light discovered upon reading the man's nametag, led him strictly back up fifteen floors, across a gold-lit exquisite hallway with fine rugs so thick it muffled their footsteps completely, and finally stopped in front of room 204, where he was further escorted inside. Kouta drawled gibberish which Light ignored as he was settled over the gold and red embroidered sofa in front of the big, expensive television. He was given freedom to purchase any movie or videogame he wished, blah, blah. On another occasion he would have been thrilled at that, but Light's head was on more important matters.

Once the hotel manager left, Light thought of a way to escape. The audacity of that rude, cold-hearted jerk to lock him up in a hotel room! Light had never been treated this way before.

This was not going to stop him, especially when Dupin insisted on making him feel like a helpless kid. Light felt more than ever the desire to prove his worth. He was not like other children, he could handle this. And he'd show Dupin.

Light crawled over the seat and stretched his arm out to the fancy old phone on the side table next to the sofa. He called room service, ordering fresh towels, soaps, shampoos and lotions, and some flowers for the bedroom. Then, he quickly ran around the room searching for a certain closet until he found it inside the bedroom, the one holding extra towels and toiletries Grabbing the items, he ran back to the couches and hid the stuff beneath the cushions. After which he planted his backpack inside the bathroom adjacent the bedroom door.

Sooner than Light had anticipated, much to his delight, a knock came from the front door followed by a female voice calling, "Room service!"

Running into the bathroom and turning on the shower, Light called from the narrow opening of the door for her to enter. An apron-wearing young woman came in with a basket of things in one hand and a vase thick with flowers in the other.

"Can you please leave them in the bedroom? Thank you!"

The young maid nodded and disappeared behind the door. As soon as she did, Light slid quietly out and into the hallway with his backpack where the cart was left. It was draped with white linen, like in most costly hotels. He supposed it looked more appealing. He'd seen this done in dozens of movies. It was indeed that easy. He slipped on the bottom rack beneath the drapes and scooted a few items which were mostly cleaning products out of the way, then sat curled in a tight ball, completely still.

When the lady returned, she suspected nothing and moved on. Much to Light's distress, _unlike_ in plot-driven movies, Light had a long, tedious wait as the hotel maid stopped at several rooms on every floor—or what _felt_ like every floor. Finally, after about fifteen or twenty minutes, he felt the cart pushed through a pair of swaying doors into a place full of hurried voices that clearly belonged to employees.

Peeping from under the drape, Light saw a large number of finely groomed people wearing black and white uniforms, other women in blue, scurry about in a kitchen with lustrous silver countertops and snobbish looking cooks—or chefs. The young maid seemed to be talking about food, probably ordering a lunch from a female cook with a friendly face. Once she was done, Light pulled down the mantle and soon after felt the cart pushed further along.

When it finally stopped for good he peeked once again at his surroundings and saw that he was in a large white room with other carts, a bench at the far end where a stout lady was watching a soap opera in a small television hooked on the wall above. She was talking to the young maid now and both had their backs to him.

He spotted the door behind his cart in no time and slipped outside silently, coming unto a wide, dully lit corridor with cold white lights stretched across the ceiling. It was lined with doors to other rooms. More importantly, it was empty and at the end of it was a smaller door with a neon green exit sign above it. Light ran down it at top speed. He thought he heard a shout that was meant for him from but he ignored it and burst outside.

The narrow ground rose up to his right, away from the building, and on the other side was a wall where dumpsters were shoved against it. He ran up the slope and as he did, the wall receded, revealing a ramp on the other side that led to the parking lot, which explained the ground's slope. Rounding the corner, he came to the busy front of the hotel full of tourists and cars, and sighed with relief.

Light recalled the direction of Omotesando and the alley where he had seen that man. From there he could take the road up to Takeshita where he would enter Harajuku Station and find Dupin, and, perhaps, the killer.

* * *

The train station was packed, being rush hour. More than once Light got jabbed by an elbow or stepped on his foot by the unkindly absent-minded crowd of tired, irritable adults going home from work. It took a while to find the young investigator. He was no where near the Takeshita entry. At the station proper, where there was a variety of fast food joints and miscellaneous stores, he found Dupin talking to the suspect, who sat on the floor hunched against the wall next to a cake shop!

Light gasped. But Dupin didn't seem too concerned. He looked as nonchalant as speaking to any stranger in a train station in an attempt to pass the time. The man looked up, light spreading across a weathered, dirty face. It was a homeless man. Light's heart deflated. That was not the killer.

But that jacket...it didn't look tattered at all, unlike the rest of the man's figure. Suddenly Light took notice of what the man was holding. Cake. Dupin and the homeless man wearing a well-kept military-issued wind-breaker were eating cake and chatting.

After waiting a few minutes, he saw Dupin say his farewell, turn around and walk Light's direction. The young man's eyes met his and he didn't seem too surprised to see Light there.

"Did you know I'd escape?"

"No. Actually, Tsuki-chan surprises me with his daring and wit. But I had already seen you from my peripheral."

"Oh."

"Tsuki-chan is extremely disobedient. I am disappointed. You will get into big trouble, or worse, one of these days if you continue to disregard the good sense of adults."

Light huffed but said nothing. It wasn't like Dupin was wrong.

"So that wasn't him in the end," he said instead, turning their focus towards the case. "The homeless man was probably in the alley searching for food or something. We're back to square one, aren't we?"

"Not so. What that man went to get from the alley was that jacket. He had come into contact with the killer who told him he could have it. Here..." From his pockets, Dupin produced a knife wrapped securely in a white cloth. "This is the murder weapon. It was inside the jacket. Takanaga thought he could dispose of it by giving it to a wandering hobo. If it weren't for you and your _luck_ , Tsuki-chan, he might have succeeded."

Light gasped, his eyes widened in amazement. "Can you find him using only this?"

"Perhaps. That is forensics' field, not mine."

Light frowned. Something was not right. If forensics could trace someone with remnants left on a knife, then what about a jacket? "Why didn't you take the jacket as well? That's evidence. It's illegal not to give it to the police."

"Misfeasance, you know your laws, very well done. But you are too young to understand now. The world is not so black and white."

Light didn't answer but was uncertain of any wisdom in Dupin's words. Perhaps he was not a real detective and so didn't care if he did illegal things and whether police got the evidence or not. It kind of disappointed him.

On their way out of the station, Dupin's cell phone rang once again. Light's ears perked up and he paid close attention. By now he'd learned that any call on that phone was important to the murder case.

Absent-mindedly, Dupin grabbed hold of Light's small hand as they walked up the steps leading out of the station into boisterous streets The early spring evening weather was inarguably chilly, the sunlight a deep orange and weak in warmth. Light wished he had a parka or another coat, or perhaps a sweater beneath his navy-blue jacket.

That was when a thought trickled into his conscious and gradually he came into a certain realization about Dupin and the evidence. Could it be…? Was it negligence or something else that made Dupin leave behind something that belonged to the killer, and now by law, to the police? Why else would he?

It was a rather long while before that call ended. Dupin had spoken in English and though Light had caught a few words, like "name" and "place", he still had a few years more of English lessons before he understood a whole, swiftly spoken conversation between English speakers. He did, however, find Dupin's particular accent different than his American teacher. Perhaps he was from Great Britain, or Australia?

After a few moments of silence Light said, "I understand now. Why you left the evidence with that homeless man. You told me you aren't used to thinking about others. I guess…neither am I."

"It is always a good thing when you come to understand something important. The true difficulty lies in remembering it when life puts you to the test. Even the greatest of us slip; trick is to catch yourself slipping."

"Yes...despite what you said, you _did_ think of others. You thought of me and you thought of that homeless man, and you are probably thinking about Taro Higuri and his mom. Did you lie?

"When I told you I'm not used to it, I did not. It doesn't mean I don't at times."

"But you act like you don't care. Isn't that a form of lying?"

"Perhaps. Not all deception is meant for ill. But as much honesty as you will ever find anywhere, never will it be more than with me. At least my conscious is clean and I can work genuinely, at least, unlike most men, I will settle for nothing less than truth."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. But still...you'll always be misunderstood if you act the way you do."

Dupin shrugged. "If people can't see past that, like Tsuki-chan has, then that is all they are worth to me." After a while, he added slyly, "Besides," he pulled out a clear miniature packet that at first seemed to be empty but after a second look, Light noticed it had pale green-ish threads. "That's all the evidence from the jacket we need to connect the killer to Takanaga, that and the knife. I'm not a man who finds noble sacrifices necessary to deliver justice."

Light smiled at that, looking up at Dupin with renewed admiration.

"We were right though," Light said shrewdly. "The man we suspected to be Takanaga _did_ go there to pick something up."

It was Dupin's turn to give Light that odd grin of his that showed only the tips of his teeth. "Yes. Our deductions had been flawless."

They walked in companionable silence until the hotel came into view. That's when Light asked, "So what was the call about?"

Dupin remained silent as he walked the boy up to the hotel's doors, then turned gravely at him, staring intensely into Light's eyes. "Tsuki-chan, it's over. Police are on their way to a warehouse where he is staying. I won't tell you any more details because you have a penchant for disobeying. I will say this one more time. Go home. Call your parents on the hotel's reception phone and ease your parents concern once and for all. They are lucky tonight. Let's keep it that way, shall we? Take care."

Light goggled at the young man's black hooded back, dumbstruck and speechless. "W-wait! Dupin-san!"

But he was ignored. There was a sleek black Mercedes of the year waiting in the driveway and Dupin disappeared into it.

Light ran after him, shouting. "Please wait, at least I want you to—" But the car sped off expertly into the street.

_At least I wanted you to know my real name._

And just like that, in a simple, abrupt, and harshly impersonal manner, Dupin was gone from his life. He had shrugged Light off like it was nothing. Perhaps it was only Light who felt closely connected to the young man, who did not reciprocate his feelings? Maybe he thought Light a pest?

Then Light remembered something. He had left the hotel room open. Dupin's laptop was there.

This was not over. Light was determined to see the case through along with Dupin. He made that vow on the balcony, to Taro and his desolate mother, and Dupin who thought Light was a hindrance, and to himself. Light ran back to the hotel, completely bypassing the reception to the elevator. He noticed Kouta, who was talking to a pair of very rich looking diplomats, look over at him in surprise as he came through the front doors.

In another time he would have smirked amusedly, but he had a mission. He would figure out where the killer was hiding on his own.


	5. The Killer

His eyes were on the small screen even before sitting down at the table near the window. It was growing darker out and Light had to turn on a lamp. The computer was already on and the files opened as Dupin had left them before heading out for the alley where Light had seen the homeless man with Takanaga's jacket. Aside from the pictures, one file showed a list of purchases Takanaga had made, properties sold and bought. Another contained the man's employment history during highschool, former addresses, the names of relatives, etcetera.

Nothing Light wanted to know. He needed something that indicated where Takanaga was located that moment.

He needed to recall all he knew about the killer. Takanaga's motive for murdering Taro Higuri was the death of his son—because of a reckless action caused by Higuri's mother. Takanaga wanted to inflict the same pain on her as she did him. So he had targeted Taro from the very beginning, knew when he got out of school, what route he would take back home. Had waited patiently for the boy, and followed him closely. He must have studied Taro's daily routine for days.

Takanaga was military; he probably knew what he was doing after having assiduously studied Taro Higuri. Light was almost sure that Takanaga's residence must be near Taro's, whose house was also close to the school. But, the list of purchased properties only stated that he sold his old house and his father's small freight forwarding company, then bought a beach house in Osaka, and an apartment and three large warehouses in Chiyoda. Since he had inherited the shipping business from his father, that didn't seem too suspicious.

But one of those warehouses must be where he was located. Dupin had said the police already traced him to a warehouse. Light inspected the addresses but he knew it was pointless. Chiyoda was too far away for him.

The murder was committed just a few hours ago. It had been some time past four in the afternoon. Light looked out the window at the darkening sky; bluish-gray and yellow now. It must be around seven. Takanaga had time enough to get to Chiyoda by train. Or did he have a car? Light checked all the files Dupin had but there was no vehicle under Takanaga's name.

In any case, Light would never be able to get to Chiyoda in time enough to meet with Dupin. Maybe he could wait right there at the hotel room. Dupin was bound to come back for his things.

The sky grew dark outside as the minutes swept by, becoming almost an hour. Light didn't know why he sat there, waiting. He didn't know what to do. He felt helpless, small, dependent, needful of someone larger; someone better and smarter, and he absolutely abhorred this feeling.

He didn't want to wait for Dupin, but he didn't want to disappear from the man's life either. He wanted to help Dupin catch Takanaga; help bring justice to Taro Higuri, whom Light felt closely connected to. But he was unable to do any of that. And it made him want to weep in frustration.

Perhaps it was all for the best. This was the job for the police. And Dupin was clearly working with them, so he must be a real detective and older than he looked—and behaved. He was wealthier than he dressed himself, and far cleverer than he made himself seem. He was also kinder and more thoughtful than he cared to admit. Dupin was everything he did not appear on the surface. It intrigued Light and he admired Dupin from the very bottom of his childlike heart.

A shrill little beeping made him jump in alarm before he realized it came from the computer. An icon forming a strange symbol that seemed to be something like a pair of W's woven within each other blinked at the bottom of the screen. Light opened whatever it was. An email had been sent from someone named Quincy Williams.

He opened it and read the contents with growing astonishment and terror. This person must have been the caller which Dupin spoke to, the informant, because the person had sent information about Takanaga's true whereabouts—and the killer was not in any warehouse. The email had a file which showed a recent face shot of Takanaga but with a different name: Soji Matsumoto, employed as a janitor in Jingumae Elementary school as of 7th of February. Nearly three weeks ago.

Light realized the killer was still at the school. He had returned there after murdering Taro Higuri, he was absolutely sure.

The letter from William itself was just a formal report, which Light skimmed through, until a hair-raising phrase caught his full attention:

" _He means to commit suicide…"_

Light reread the whole thing. It said that it was strongly believed that Takanaga did not try very hard to cover his tracks because he planned to take his own life.

Light didn't think. He truly did not have a single thought in his head but his legs shot from under him and ran as swiftly as they would take him out the room. His feet slapped lightly, as if he where on air, as he hurried out of the hotel.

Later, when it was all over, Light would feel very sorry for not having thought before acting at all. He would fear the loss of control more than anything, for the rest of his life.

* * *

By the time Light got to Jingumae, its façade loomed dark far past the street lamps. He ran down the neatly trimmed grass towards the front doors and tried to open them but they were locked securely. It was at that moment, standing on the front steps of the school, that realization settled over him with a terrible chill that shook his little frame. He had come to the place where the killer was by himself. He was in a dangerous place, alone.

But Dupin should be on his way. If he received that email then surly the detective must have gotten a call from his mysterious informant.

What could Light possibly do to prevent Takanaga from committing suicide? If he made himself known, Takanaga might kill him. Light decided it was best to wait quietly for Dupin. He wanted to be independent and strong, but there were things he was simply not capable of because he was only nine years old; a child, only a few years younger than Taro Higuri. He had no power against a grown man, and one trained for combat.

Even so, Light walked around the grounds, inspecting the doors and windows. How would Dupin get inside? If the police barged in, trucks roaring and sirens screeching, special tactical units with their big guns running down the dark empty halls, they would probably push Takanaga into committing suicide quicker.

Dupin wouldn't let that happen would he? Maybe if the young detective got there first, he could prevent that situation and capture Takanaga alive. That man needed to pay for his crimes—and the dead cannot pay…or feel regret.

What was justice if not the remorse of a criminal? What was the point in their suffering and dying, if they did not regret what they've done?

Light's footsteps crushed the blades of grass almost silently in the dead stillness; the clamorous city rush of traffic and people was far away, on the other side of the large building. The street lamps were too far out to light anything but the dim brightness of the city all around was enough for Light's young, excellent vision to make out the dark silhouettes of trees, a statue, and small outer buildings around the compound. He was nearing the back, and there was a fence enclosing a field with bleachers. On the other side to the field was an outside basketball court with six nets. Behind that was the entrance to the gymnasium.

He would never see Dupin coming from here, so he turned to head back to the front, but he was suddenly grabbed from behind and hauled off his feet harshly. Eye's bulging and skull tingling with horror, Light tried to scream for help but a large, rough hand pressed itself tightly to his mouth. The man who had taken him was huge, his chest as hard as stone and very wide—much wider than Light's dad's.

His muffled screams wouldn't do much but he employed his lungs as best he could anyway, all the while struggling to free himself from the vice-grip. The arm around his chest, pinning his tiny arms to his side, was almost as thick as Light's torso. Light dug his heels frantically against the trunk-like thighs beneath but it was like trying to harm a tree.

The man carried him back to the building and through a side door. Light flailed his legs and wiggled mightily, even though deep down he knew there was no way he could fight a grown man that big and strong, in his terror it was all he could think of doing.

Hot tears poured out of his eyes, and his whole body went numb with the surreal horror of his current reality. A single little thought trickled into his conscious mind, burning behind his eyes as if dripped from the fangs of a venomous serpent:

He was going to die.

He heard himself screeching as if displaced from his real body. His voice was curtailed by the calloused palm that not only silenced him but pressed his head close to the broad shoulder behind him. Having been so filled with fear, in his shock he didn't even see where he was being taken. Only when he was dropped on a hard bed, did he regain enough of his wits to look about him.

It was pitch dark until a light by the door came on. Light was in the nurse's room on one of the cots. Kaie Takanaga stood in the doorway, looming large in dark dickies. A hand hovered over one of the light switches by the door. Light's breath caught in his throat and he stared at the man petrified as Takanaga walked back over to the cot and sat on the hard, springy mattress beside him.

The man looked terribly tired, gaunt and unshaven. His black eyes had sunken in and his greasy hair, longer than in the pictures, plastered itself close to his crown. He reeked awfully of must and that cloying metallic sweetness that was blood. It was on him, on his white wifebeater beneath the opened dickie, and on his hand. Light couldn't really see blood on his hand but it was there, he smelled it.

Light realized the scent of blood was so strong because that hand was the one that had covered his mouth. The essence of Taro Higuri's blood was on his face.

Light doubled over the edge of the bed and hurled a few times. The tears never stopped running down his face and he gradually became aware that his body was trembling violently. His breaths came in gasps, it was so hard to breathe.

There was a hand on his back, running circles as if to sooth, but only brought a crawling sensation up Light's spine. Takanaga's hand, he thought, still unbelieving his reality.

"What's wrong, my boy? Feeling sick?"

Light's awareness was in a haze, as if he were experiencing a dream. Coming home from school, being chased by bullies…he'd never would have imagined being in the arms of a stone-cold killer that evening. At this time his mother would have already prepared dinner and served it on the table, his dad would be home, and his little sister would be whining or yapping about something or other while Mom tried to make her be quiet and eat her food. Light would be with his family, inside the warm walls of his home. Safe.

Takanaga clucked his tongue and lifted Light again, sitting him on his lap. He hugged Light warmly, like a father to a son, and rocked them both as if trying to drive away Light's nightmares.

Or perhaps not Light's but You Takanaga's.

Sure enough, Takanaga's next words chilled Light to the bone.

"There, there, my son. You'll be alright. You're back with me," he said shakily, stroking Light's hair. "We'll go home together tonight."

Light scrunched his eyes shut as Takanaga kissed his head gently. The stubby cheeks of the man were wet. Takanaga buried his head on Light's frail little shoulder and sobbed loudly, as he kept rocking them both. The deep coarse moans and cries of the bereaved father were so wretched that Light almost would have pitied him if he hadn't been so terrified for his own life.

"You've come, you've come," he whispered, voice trembling with agony, Light knew, for his son. "…you've come to wait for me, haven't you?" Takanaga sniffed and kissed him on the cheek.

"Please," Light pleaded so softly he barely heard himself. He was shaking badly; the tremors overtook his whole body in violent spasms. It was freezing and he needed to go to the toilet. His stomach churned and burned, queasy and empty. There was a great, loud drumming in his head, and his heart seemed to pound fists against his ribcage.

Lungs failing him, Light gasped, sobbed and hiccuped between panicked cries. But he kept still, kept Takanaga thinking he was his son—or his ghost. Kept his wits about him, wept in fear but kept his thoughts close to him; they were broken but still useful. He wanted to run away, fall asleep, escape reality, but he knew that would be worse. He needed to keep thinking. He had to be strong. So Dupin wouldn't worry. For the sake of Taro Higuri, who hadn't deserved to die alone on the cold, crowded streets of Harajuku.

Dupin was coming. The report sent to him, the informant, William, the timely calls Dupin got. He was coming.

 _Please,_ he pleaded again in his head. _Come._


	6. Tsuki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem excerpt is from Edgar Allen Poe's The Bells.

The first time Light witnessed an arrest he'd been four years old. The episode took place down the block so all he could see were flashing sirens, white cruisers and a few dark silhouettes stark against the deep warm six o'clock sky, narrowed by tall houses lining the quiet street. He'd been so excited at the thought that these uniformed men had come to his neighborhood and captured a bad guy. His dad was a cop too, and Light had always been proud of him, but not until that day did Light discover the desire and determination to follow in his father's footsteps. To have that strength and power.

He wanted power, and ever since he was four years old and understood what it meant, he had attributed power to a big shiny badge. Normal people didn't have that strength and power. They were easily messed with, easily destroyed. It sickened Light to be that way from an early age. The average citizen, weak and helpless

It sickened him now. Why did children have to be so small and fragile? It wasn't fair. He wanted that strength and power now more than ever. He wanted to bring Takanaga to justice—kill him if need be. Sometimes it was the only way, he'd been told. But all he dared to do was sit quietly on a murderer's lap and wait—hope—that someone came. That somehow he survived this. He couldn't do anything else. He was small and powerless, but he never felt so until now.

Light almost stopped breathing in anticipation when the man stilled without warning. Takanaga lifted him off his lap, sat him gently on the bed. Quietly. He took from beside him a coil of thick wire that had been near the pillow. Light hadn't noticed it before; his perception of details returned with that particular observation. Perhaps some deep part of him had known what Takanaga meant to do with it but the moment was vaguely lived, so Light goggled at Takanaga's actions with detached horror, secretly begging Dupin to come—hoping that if his thoughts were powerful enough they would reach him.

If they did, they hadn't been swift enough.

Another strange detail in the room was one of those things janitors pushed and pulled around; a dirty grey trolley carrying bottled cleaning products, pressed against the nurse's desk. The last feature that seemed important at the time was the crooked ceiling panel right above it.

It was a swift thing, the way Takanaga did it, like an engrained skill, as if he had practiced it. He got up on the desk; put a foot on the trolley as he leaned forward. He moved the ceiling panel aside and tied the wire around something inside it—a pipe or lath. It was when Takanaga wound the wire around his neck a few times, that Light noticed his accelerated heartbeat as it pounded even faster, his stomach churning, head swaying.

Takanaga placed his other foot on the trolley and with his weight pushed it. Light cringed when the grey thing slammed against the bed next to him with a great clatter, things toppled off it. He only caught a glimpse of the man's flailing legs before he turned away from the sight with a gasp. The appalling noises that filled the room did not sound human at all—Light had never heard a person make sounds like that. However, his merciless logic would not allow him escape from reality, and the reality was that _those_ were the sounds a man made as his life was strangled out of him. Hideous was the word. Or revolting. He pressed his hands against his ears and squeezed his eyes shut to make everything go away.

"Go away, go away, go away, go away," he chanted, hands to his ears, eyes tightly shut. It helped. With his ears shielded, he could only hear the sound of his own desperate voice.

Abruptly, the silence in the background was broken. Suddenly there was a lot of noise. Light raised his voice and scrounged his face tightly, unwilling to see what harrowing things were causing the clamor. Only when roughly shaken by the shoulders did Light open his eyes to see Dupin's frowning face, his mouth rapidly opened and closed violently—Dupin usually didn't move his lips much to talk. Was he shouting? Light had never seen him shout—Dupin gave the impression of being a calm, indifferent creature.

He felt his wrists grow warm in his dear friend's hands as they were gently eased from his head. Light let Dupin guide him.

"Did you hear me, Tsuki-chan? What are you doing here?"

"I-I…your hotel room…I went back and…"

Light noticed he could not see Dupin's eyes. With his hood over his head, falling low over his eyes, and the lighting, they were hidden in shadows. It was in the way the young man pursed his lips that he knew Dupin was angry.

Lifted into Dupin's arms, Light glimpsed one last time at Takanaga. The man lay prone on the floor with police officers all over him. Light could not tell if the man was alive or dead. And he never did. Dupin left the room and Light fell asleep before they exited the building.

* * *

He woke with a daze, blazing white light cut into his eyes making him close them again. He felt funny. His body felt like lead sinking into the mattress, and he was deeply tired but serene, without any worry in the world—however intellectually he understood his situation was grave. He opened his eyes again, slowly, blinking several times until he made out most of the room. White, sterile. He barely understood where the place was or why he was there.

"Tsuki-chan," someone said. A strong, calm, velvety voice he knew well.

Light turned his head towards the only person who had ever called him Tsuki-chan. Dupin had his hood off, but the light that had seemed so bright upon awakening was actually very dim, coming from a lamp on the bedside table next to a chair in which Dupin sat, leaning over Light. He barely made out his friend's figure. However, he could distinguish his hair. It was longish, in dire need of a haircut, disheveled and not a little greasy. Dupin clearly didn't really care about appearances. Usually Light would have sneered in disdain at that, and upon first impression, would have thought Dupin little better than a rough troglodyte. Nonetheless, in his happy stupor, and after having come to admire the quirky young man, Light thought fondly of Dupin's hair. He wanted to touch it. Except when he went to lift his arm, he found it too heavy for his efforts.

"Mmm," Light grunted.

Dupin said, "You were a little frantic when you woke up last time as we came into the hospital. The doctor gave you a little drug to calm you so you could sleep."

Light did not remember waking up before this moment after falling asleep in Dupin's arms. It was strange and a little scary to hear he had done something yet he could not remember anything about it. He remembered Dupin clearly, remembered the fear in thinking he'd never see him again. Even so, it was difficult to recall why. He vaguely remembered Takanaga earlier in the school. That experience had been obscurely lived, as if vicariously through someone else.

Like a scary dream, he thought that it had been terrible and frightening when it had happened, but he couldn't feel any anxiety now, looking back. Most likely the drugs. Or post-traumatic shock—his father had taught him about that.

"Your parents will be here any minute," Dupin said. "I will leave before they do. We probably won't meet again…but I wanted to say goodbye this time. I was harsh…before. At the front of the hotel, I mean." He frowned as he said this. Dupin clearly had some difficulty expressing his more gentled emotions. Didn't like to feel vulnerable or get sensitive. Probably wasn't fond of apologies either. Light wanted to smile because he was the same. "I realized I hurt you and that was why you went back to my hotel room. That's why you went to the school. You knew I'd go there. I'm sorry."

Sighing, he continued with a little smirk. "You're too clever for your own good, Tsuki-chan. Please take better care of yourself. The world is already a dangerous place—that kind of intelligence can get you killed as easily as ignorance if you don't know how, and when, to apply it." He placed a hand on Light's head and stroked his hair.

"Huh…I want to…I'm…" His tongue was so heavy, thick and clumsy. Eyes drooped very low. Light wanted to tell Dupin his real name before he left forever, but changed his mind after Dupin's last words.

Shaking his head, his friend told him, "You know me as Dupin, and I know you as little Tsuki-chan and that is how we'll remember each other. That's how it should be."

Light smiled and Dupin actually smiled back. His usual dour face lit up and he was quite handsome suddenly. With an awkward, rather clumsy and uncharacteristically shy kiss on Light's brow, Dupin said, "Not used to thinking about others. But it was, unexpectedly, a pleasure, Tsuki-chan," then he straightened and left. Light never felt this sad about someone leaving, but sleep closed in on him before he could shed a tear.

It was the drugs. Or the post-traumatic shock. But he'd forget about that goodbye, and soon after about the whole encounter.

* * *

**Ten years later**

In those moments between sleep and wakefulness, thoughts ran wild, memories, information stored, maybe music, movies, events, they simply bubble up to the surface of consciousness unbidden. It didn't matter how old they were or how long they've been forgotten. Could be something from earlier that same day or something from infancy. While drowsing, the mind had no perception of time and any random memory could resurface.

A memory Light never knew he had surfaced during that state of semi-conscious dozing. One of him sitting in a coquettish, dainty café, eating cakes with someone he had truly, and genuinely, liked. He rarely ever liked anyone, not so deeply. Even so, he remembered this person's presence had been an absolute joy. Something special and beautifully fleeting in childhood.

He also remembered a boy's dead body on the street, face blue, blackish red on the ground beneath him. He had vomited at the sight. That special person had been there, took care of him. Light also vaguely remembered he'd been kidnapped. A man hanging himself. That person had been there to take care of him again.

As he focused on all these related memories, Light roused himself from his light dozing and consciously tried to recall details. They came easily, sometimes. Images mostly. Names escaped him. Even that person's. A young man in a black hoodie. He did remember that his name had been something that made Light smile.

Ah, yes. A famous investigator's name from classical literature.

Not Sherlock Holmes. The inspiration behind Sherlock Holmes. A much more solemn investigator written by a dark author…Edgar Allen Poe. Auguste Dupin.

Dupin.

It had been a joke in response to a sarcastic comment Light had made. He had gotten irritated that the stranger was so perceptive, already guessing that Light had been running away from someone and that he had lied about his name. Auguste Dupin was a character known for his unbelievably accurate perceptivity.

" _Well, what's your name, detective-san?"_

" _Tsuki-chan, you may call me Dupin."_

Light smiled at the memory of Dupin. How could he have forgotten that encounter? It had been only one afternoon; one person he met out of thousands throughout his life, but it had been a very important meeting, an impactful day. How could he forget all those events after meeting Dupin? Light would have to ask his father. His parents would know if something as grave as a kidnapping had happened.

No. He hadn't been kidnapped. He had been the one to sneak around that place—the school. The junior high. The dead boy's school. And he'd been caught.

Did his father know about that?

He knew he'd been in the hospital and Dupin had been there but he could not recall any details—just a sense that it happened.

Light was suddenly taken by a profound curiosity to know where Dupin was, and how he was doing. Would they ever meet again?

He shifted in bed and, opening his eyes, suddenly realized L was hovering over him, staring curiously. Now he was reminded of the Kira case and the handcuffs that kept him no farther than six feet from L. L, rude, selfish, inconsiderate, manipulative, greasy-haired, sloppy, and slightly unlawful private investigator.

Suddenly he remembered eyeing Dupin's drab appearance. Dupin had also been strange but he'd been kind, considerate, polite, generous. Even protective. Nothing like L.

"Is something wrong, Light-kun?"

He frowned, confused. "Why do you ask?"

"You've been sniffing and—" L trailed off and brought a finger up to Light's cheek, stroking upwards. Light was about to cringe away and ask "what the hell?" when L lifted his finger, now wet.

"Oh," he muttered with cold realization. That was embarrassing. He cleared his throat awkwardly and said, "It's nothing. Must've been dreaming."

After an irritating moment of scrutiny, L seemed to lose interest and shuffled back to his side.

So different from Dupin, Light thought. Dupin would have pressed on until he got an answer. Dupin had cared about him.

Even with his family, Light continuously made sure to affect a level of reserve. There were things family just should not know about one's self. However, Dupin, in only a few hours, had garnered Light's respect and trust. Sometimes complete strangers showed far more understanding and kindness than family, were easier to talk openly and honestly with. Family members were always judgmental, even when they tried not to be.

With L, he did not have the same confidence he had had with Dupin, but it did stand to note that conversations with L, even their infantile banter, never failed to entertain him. L could be a loathsome man but he was certainly not a boring one. An hour or so must have gone by before Light swallowed his embarrassment and said, "When I was little I went to this really great coffee shop in Harajuku. If it's still there, we should go sometime."

"You know that's impossible, Light-kun. You are not allowed off these cuffs until this case blows over."

"I _know_ that, Ryuuzaki! I mean, after we capture Higuchi tomorrow."

"Aren't we confident."

For the sake of peace, Light chose to ignore that and decided to entice instead. "They…The coffee shop, I mean, they have really good cake."

L didn't say anything for a good long pause. It _had_ been a strangely nice thing to say. Light was actually inviting L somewhere. "To celebrate the closing of the Kira case," he amended.

"Curious. I always thought you wouldn't want anything left to do with me if you were ever set free. I haven't been very gracious with you."

"No. You haven't. At least not the moment you put this chain between us. But while we were in school together…I had fun."

L didn't say anything to that at first. Then, "It's a date."

Took a while before Light processed the smirk in L's voice. He took one of the pillows from under his head and threw it at L, who caught it with his face uttering a muffled, "OOF!"

One thing was for sure. Light would have preferred to be handcuffed to Dupin than that insinuating, sarcastic and supercilious _dick_.

* * *

**[L]**

Hear the tolling of the bells—

Iron Bells!

What a world of solemn thought their melody compels!

In the silence of the night,

How we shiver with affright

At the melancholy menace of their tone!

For every sound that floats

From the rust within their throats

Is a groan.

Remarkably, it was the next night, the night Light did not sleep next to him, the night L noticed the weight of the cuff on his wrist was gone, that he remembered Light inviting him to a tasty coffee shop roughly twenty-four hours ago. With everything that had happened—the discovery of the Death Note and shinigami, Higuchi's murder—he hadn't given that whimsical invitation much thought.

It had been a considerable short period of time, but during the last several hours, something drastic had changed between him and Light. Whatever comfortable atmosphere they had created with their light banter the previous night had coiled into thick cold tension. Light had withdrawn into himself; much alike he'd been three months ago. L did not think they would be going to any coffee shop in Harajuku.

Deep in his thoughts, shuffling them, trying to find sense in all the recent madness, he sat crossed-legged on an armchair with his laptop, idly skimming through Kira's victim list of names when one sharply caught his attention.

_Kaie Takanaga_

L remembered him. Remembered him well. The one case in which he had provided free help and that did not involve millions of dollars or a high murder count. Only one victim. A young boy by the name of Taro Higuri. Killed in revenge for You Takanaga's accidental death. Kaie Takanaga's son.

And there had been another young boy involved in that mess. A lively, intelligent, sweet child he remembered had called himself Tsuki. Tsuki-chan. Brown hair, big brown intelligent eyes, huge eyelashes. One of the prettiest children he'd ever seen and one of the most brilliant.

So, Takanaga was killed by Kira. L wondered if Tsuki-chan knew. Where he might be. Probably still in school. He'd been small—eight or nine. So he would either be a third year or in college. A young man, fully grown. Perhaps one of, if not the most intelligent in his—

No.

L closed that window and opened Light's file. Nineteen. Kanji spelled _Tsuki_ for moon but read as Light.

" _It's…Tsuki. With the characters for luck."_

" _Tsuki with the characters for luck…how fitting. But Tsuki-chan, you are lying to me."_

Suddenly his chest felt tight, assaulted by something he could not pinpoint, could not explain. It felt like tingles, uncomfortable, cold tingles, dancing around in the pit of his stomach, up his chest. L slowly closed his laptop and plunged the bedroom into complete darkness.

The next day, L was determined to give the order to test the thirteenth day rule. He was angry. Mostly at himself, but he didn't know why he should feel that way. He contemplated this on the rooftop, ignoring the downpour. It was freezing out, and the gales blasted water into his face. The cold was numbing though, and the discomfort distracted him from the pain in his chest.

Had he been wrong? Did that mean he should he give his successors more attention? Will that alter their decisions in the future? Would Yagami Light have turned out this way if _Dupin_ had kept in contact now and then? Maybe through mailing letters, even if they never actually saw each other again.

But he was L. He was no one's bloody mentor—he didn't know how to be one even if he wanted to be. He wasn't responsible for children. His successors were Watari's kids. Light had been Soichiro's responsibility. They were both good men. There was no reason to feel guilty over a youth perfectly capable of reasoning, fully conscious of right and wrong.

He remembered the bells tolling in childhood. The day he was orphaned.

_I came out fine. Didn't I? Even through tragedy and death._

A perfect home or a lonesome childhood, neither were an excuse for a man's decision to take another life. Was it?

L didn't know. His mind was mathematical, calculative, perceptive, but not very wise. He understood human behavior, could predict it. But he didn't understand where it stemmed from, nor its true nature. Philosophy was not his fort. He preferred to occupy his mind with things that could be answered through proven methods.

Unfortunately, the things that affected people most, including himself, were the things he least understood. The things that no one and no method could provide sure answers.

When Light came out onto the skyscraper to retrieve him, L remained motionless, letting both of them get soaked and chilled for a while before finally giving the younger man a break—who'd pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes with irritation, slightly, but L could read Light well by now—and conceded to return inside.

He waited on the staircase leading from their bedroom— _his_ bedroom—floor for Light who was bringing towels for both of them. He didn't think much of anything during that time. His brain simply didn't, or couldn't work around the intricate ironies and melancholies within the mechanics of Fate. He didn't believe in Fate, per se, men were in charge of their decisions, but how different a whole life-time could be with just a simple, mindless decision made years—decades—earlier.

He questioned himself again. But it was meaningless. L did what he had to do. Friendships were dangerous. Light's life might have been different, but it also might have been worse.

While Light dried himself, L studied him. Of course. L had a good memory of people. Brown hair, big brown intelligent eyes. Calculative and calm outside, hotheaded and passionate inside. The boy waited for no one, no one's consent or permission, and acted out on his own, on what he thought best—even if he was wrong and foolish most of the time.

This was Tsuki-chan. The boy he left in that hospital bed ten years ago, with wounded, droopy eyes. Tears glistening on his big, round cheeks. Slight, tired, melancholy smile as he tried to give L his real name—had trusted L to do so. Had wanted to.

It made L wonder for the hundredth time since late last night. Would things between them have been different if only he had kept in touch?

What kind of ripple-effect could one ostensibly non-consequential act have in the future? In the lives of countless people—lives spared. It was stupid to think like that, but no matter how much he told himself that asking all these big "If's" were meaningless, L found himself circling back towards those questions again.

L had thought that Tsuki-chan would have been better off never knowing L and what his kind of life entailed. L's presence in that single evening had already caused the boy so much hardship and trauma. What did a sweet child like Tsuki need with corresponding with a man like L? What would he gain?

But here he was. L had truly thought he had made the wisest decision possible ten years ago. Now he wasn't so sure. Perhaps a few letters a year would have guided little Tsuki better. Picking up the Death Note, Light might have chosen differently, confided in _Dupin._ L would have taken care of him like he had all those years ago. He had enjoyed doing it. For once in his life catering to someone else instead of being catered to.

Yagami Light was different from Tsuki-chan. Yet the same. In nothing but a thin nylon shirt, wet and sticking to him, Light shivered and L was reminded of that day in the alley looking for evidence among trash. L had wrapped an arm around him. Then he took him to where there was sun, to get warmer.

Normally he'd never have done so much. Children vexed him. But that one had been different. Independent, sweet. He'd grown quickly on L.

L got off the step he had been sitting on and went down, kneeling before Light. He began drying his feet, massaging away the tension there. It would be the last thing he did for the boy.

He was shocked when Light smoothed his own towel over L's dripping hair, gently, almost like a caress. Almost revealing that secret sweetness that might still be in there somewhere with the memory of Tsuki-chan. Light muttered some excuse which L allowed to pass.

That weird, compressed tingling sensation in his chest returned. He was unused to it. He hated it.

He recalled the night before, how Light had told him he'd suddenly remembered a coffee shop in Harajuku. Of course. The one L took him to. He'd wanted to go there with L after they triumphantly shut the Kira case.

Light had shed a tear in his sleep, which immediately aroused L's curiosity. Now he was even more curious. What or who had that tear been for?

All the same, things have changed drastically since the previous night. Somehow, there was a sense of shifting—like the ball was no longer on L's court. Maybe it was because Light was no longer chained to him. Or maybe because they were about to prove once and for all if Light had consciously been Kira by testing the thirteen-day rule. Or a combination of both, but he knew something big was going to happen that day, yet he suffered the oddest sensation of wanting to stop whatever it was.

He briefly considered mentioning last night's invitation, maybe they'd talk about those old, forgotten things over cake and Earl Grey. He shared Light's thoughts about their time in To-Oh. It _had_ been unexpectedly fun, and, almost as a rule, L did not have fun. Entertained himself, amused himself, never did he actually enjoy someone else's company.

But with one glance up at Light's cool gaze he thought better of it.

This was Kira. Not the boy from ten years ago. He might as well list Tsuki-chan among Kira's list of victims. Along with Kaie Takanaga. And the young boys, You Takanaga and Taro Higuri.

" _You know me as Dupin, and I know you as little Tsuki-chan and that is how we'll remember each other. That's how it should be."_

Yes. He would say nothing. That was how it should be.

"I'm sad," he confessed to Light. "Soon you'll understand."

L watched the calm confusion contort some of the coldness in Light's eyes. Beneath them was something like understanding, or a desire to understand, hidden and repressed in there. But L didn't give it hope. Tsuki-chan was dead, and so would Kira be. Soon.

Then L's phone rang.

**Fin**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this! Deepest, fondest thanks to those who reviewed!


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